Friday, December 30, 2016

The goal of this blog is to add eightness to the Shabbat table talk ... Please share.Continuing to wish a speedy recovery to Tamar Adina bas Kayna Shulamis and to Ruth bat Sarah.
In honor of Tehila's seventh birthday.Philosophically-speaking, why should it be eight days?

Isn't the standard number in the Torah seven?

(Try asking this at your table - ask them how many sevens they can think
of in the Torah. For that matter, how many sevens can they think of in
nature? Notes on a major scale, etc. I've come up with nineteen so far -
email me if you want my full list.)

To answer the philosophical question, here's a little philosophy for you, followed by a brief word from Jerusalem.

He notices that the difference between the two pronunciations is a
single Hebrew letter - "chet" v. "hey". Numerically, the difference only
3, which could be represented by the word "av" which means father....

"Using Google Translate, הנוכה ["Hanukah"] means, "seasonally"; חנוכה [Chanukah] means,
"dedication". We have more than a seasonal holiday here: we dedicate
ourselves to אבינו שבשמים [God], so if we add the אב to the seasonal
festival, we have our Dedication."

If William will
permit me to riff off of him a bit.... It is interesting that Channuka
is related to the word for "education" — "chinuch". Eduation isn't just
dedicating a child, it's preparing the child for life.

The idea of Chanuka is to re-dedicate yourself — that is, to prepare yourself.

Maybe you thought you were prepared?

But you're not. None of us were.

We were maybe prepared on the level of seven, but not on the level of eight.

The other day I was speaking with my 12-year-old nephew in Jerusalem.

He asked me, "If there was enough oil for one day, then the miracle was
only seven days. The last day it burned up, so it wasn't a miracle!"

His answer: For most of the world, it's only a miracle when oil
doesn't burn. But for a Jew, it's even a miracle when it does burn.
Everything in nature is miraculous.

As long as you are waiting for that miraculous success, that miraculous
recovery, that divine intervention in marriage or childbirth or winning
the lottery, then you are still living in the world of seven.

When you start to realize the miracle of the quotidian, you are living in the eight.

That's why it matters how you say it. Because this world matters. The
here-and-now matters. Beauty matters. If you pronounce something wrong,
you are marring the cosmic harmony.

So the real magic of Channuka - the real preparation - happens tomorrow night, when you light those eight candles.

Take a good gander and think about re-dedicating yourself to living in this beautiful moment.

Channukah sameach and

Shabbat Shalom

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Friday, December 23, 2016

The goal of this blog is to beautify the Shabbat table talk ... Please share.Continuing to wish a speedy recovery to Tamar Adina bas Kayna Shulamis and to Ruth bat Sarah.
In honor of the yahrzeits of Bert Walker and Yeudel ben Avraham.The other day we were discussing Channuka preparations and I used the American pronunciation "Hannuka".

This was absolutely abrasive to the ears of our 6-year-old.

"Channuka," she instinctively said.

The obvious question for your table is: Does it really matter?

Or could I put it this way:

How is correct diction any different from all the other corrections we like to give our kids:

Please consider an end-of-the-year contribution to support this weekly Table Talk.
If you had paid a buck for your favorite one, would you have said,
"Money well spent"? What of the fact that it comes to your inbox for free every Friday? Does that make worthless? (or priceless?)

This blog actually costs several nickels to produce, and we rely on
readers like you to keep it going. There are the costs of the 10-year-old computers and the rest of the office overhead. There is staff time.

Yet this blog is provided as a free service by JSL in order to achieve our mission
of fostering a paradigm-shift in Jewish education. You have the
opportunity today to enjoy being being an active partner in this
mission. At any level of contribution, you will be a partner. (If you are already a JSL partner, thank you.) http://jsli.org/donate/

Friday, December 16, 2016

The goal of this blog is to not leave the Friday night table talk to chance.... Please share.In memory of Moshe Simcha Moskowitz and wishing a speedy recovery to Tamar Adina bas Kayna Shulamis.A horrific accident this week.

A mother and her son drop older sister off at the airport, going to Israel to study. What a happy goodbye!

On the way back, in front of her is a disabled vehicle on the highway -
she slows down, but the semi behind her does not slow down and rams her
into the stalled vehicle.

How long it took first responders to arrive, who knows and who wants to
know. Both mother and son were airlifted to separate hospitals in DC.

The mother is presently in ICU, fighting for her life.

The son - a 13-year-old in our son's school - did not make it.

The funeral was yesterday.

It looked like the entire Jewish community was there. Not only were all
600 seats filled in the huge sanctuary, so was every foot
of the standing room, so was the overflow room, spilling out into the
hallways and the foyer.

First question for your table: Was it because the parents are well known and loved?

But speaker after speaker told of how special this boy was. His
name was Moshe Simcha - and he was always happy (simcha means
happiness). He wasn't an extroverted, joking kid. He was mild-mannered,
soft-spoken, but extremely friendly and even more than friendly, he was
helpful.

His seventh-grade teacher said, "You know those days when you come in to
school and you really need a coffee but you don't have time because you
have to go copy your handout? Moshe would make sure you had a coffee on
your desk and the copies made before you even had a chance to ask him
for help."

His father said, "At home, he was always asking, 'What can I do to help?'"

Other kids loved him, because he was super nice to everyone, of all ages.

Our son called him "really nice". (That is a very rare compliment.)

He was a fighter - he didn't let diabetes stop him from training for and
completing a 120-mile bike-a-thon to raise money to help disabled kids
go to camp.

He was a learner - he recently asked his father if they could spend five
minutes a day learning together the laws of lashon hara. Why? "Because
it's really important and I don't think I know it well enough."

His father, a beloved first-grade teacher, said, "Moshe taught us all something. He was a teacher - a rebbe - to all of us."

Even those of us who never met him.

(Even those of us who merely read about him in an email?)

His family ask:

• In his memory, that we aspire to emulate him;
• As a collective "prayer" for his mother, that we light Shabbat candles five minutes early today.

Hence I share the story with you, and ask you to forward it to everyone you love.

Second question for your table: What's a greater tragedy - a meaningful life cut short at 13, or a long, healthy life without meaning or mission?

Shabbat Shalom

PS - After 2,500 years, there is finally a new way to play dreidel. Click on the image above.

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I found myself speaking with someone who has been working on a project that is remarkably similar to one of our projects.

Neither theirs nor ours has been launched yet. Neither of us wanted to tell the other many details about what we are doing.

Question #2 for your table: Would you call us rivals? If so, what next?

And Question #3 — In such a situation, would you yourself rather be the
"first to market" (not knowing what the other side is cooking), or be
second (allowing you to respond better to what they are doing)?

"Donald Trump is a dud of politician who squandered his advantages in a winnable election. More than just a bad candidate,
he has been a catastrophe for the GOP itself. He has destroyed careers,
compromised institutions, revealed deep contradictions within the
Republican Party, and heightened tensions between its voters and its
lawmakers, its activists and its intellectuals. On Nov. 8, nearly 18
months after he announced his bid for the Republican presidential
nomination, the saga of Trump will come to a close. If polls are
accurate, he will lose. He may even face a landslide,
as Hillary Clinton capitalizes on a superior campaign to score victories
in states like Arizona, Georgia, and Texas. There’s a slim but real
chance that, when the smoke clears, Trump will have led the GOP
to a historic defeat, handing the White House, the Senate, and the House
of Representatives to the Democratic Party."
James Rouelle, Slate, Nov 2, 2016http://www.slate.com/articles/news_and_politics/politics/2016/11/trump_can_happen_again.html

Friday, November 04, 2016

The goal of this blog is a penny for your thoughts. Please share.In honor of three San Francisco birthdays this week: David, Harmon and Rebecca. Happy Birthday!

Did something like this ever happen to you?

We're sitting at the Shabbat table. I ask a child, "So-and-so, would you please go get the orange juice."

Before she can even get out of her chair, her sister dashes ahead of her to snatch the mitzvah.

Some kids may be happy to let someone else do their chores. But this kid is upset: "Abba asked me to do it!!"

This scenario occurs often in our home. It leads to a few questions:

1. Can you steal a mitzvah? Is that really stealing?

After you get everyone's answer, you can tell them: According to the
Talmud, not only is it considered stealing, you can take someone to
court for stealing your mitzvah and if you win, the court may impose
hefty damages. In one such case, the plaintiff was awarded ten gold
coins.

2. What's the worst kind or amount of stealing?

Meaning: Is it a dollar amount, like $1M or $1B or ? Was Madoff one of
the worst because he stole so much from so many? Or is it a function of
the victim - stealing from poor orphans is worse than from Warren
Buffet?

3. Is goodness relative or absolute?

Meaning: Should I judge myself in comparison to other people ("Hey, I'm
no Bernie Madoff:), or compared to some absolute standard (no cheating
anyone ever, even slightly).

Interestingly enough, while everyone agrees that stealing from poor
orphans ranks among the lowest of the low, the rabbis say there's a type
of stealing that's even worse:

When a person steals in a way that he convinces himself it's not really a crime.

Like the guy who steals one grape from his neighbor's vine.

"What's the big deal? One grape is worth less than a penny, what did I do?"

Indeed, under Jewish law, he cannot be prosecuted.

But imagine others copy him, each one stealing less than a penny's worth, so the poor owner has no legal recourse.

This isn't the billion-dollar Ponzi scheme. It's cheating in a way that
you'll never be caught, never be tried, never be convicted.

This is called gaming the system. Cheating on a test. Not reporting all
of your income. Not paying an out-of-state parking fine. Not leaving a
note when you scratch someone's car.

Friday, October 21, 2016

The goal of this blog is to adjust some attitudes around the Friday night dinner table. Please share.Thank you to all who continue to respond to our 36¢ challenge.

Last week, I mentioned visiting the assisted living folks, talking about smiles, and making new friends.

This week, a story of serendipity, followed by a challenge.

Serendipitously, one of the new friends I made on Yom Kippur is a certain Mr. and Mrs. Lowen.

He is 92 and she 90, and both are sharp as a tack.

He was born in Frankfurt. By 14 he had learned Hebrew and French, and a solid background in Torah and Talmud.

Then he witnessed Kristallnacht in Frankfurt, after which the Gestapo arrested his father and sent him to a camp.

Miraculously, his mother was able to get him released after a month. How?

She went to the police station and proved that he had served the Fatherland in WWI.

But they saw the writing on the wall. They put him and his brother on the famous Kindertransport to the UK in the late spring of 1939.

The parents never got out.

In England, they were hosted by a non-Jewish family, a big challenge for boys from a kosher home.

Her story is no less dramatic. Her family had fled to Milan, only to flee again a year later.

And here they are today, 78 years later, married for 70 years.

And they show no sign of malice, no hint of rancor. They told me they
never returned to Germany and would not ever; yet they are people of
faith, from families of faith, and one can see their parents' glow in
their eyes so many years later.

This morning I asked Mr. and Mrs. Lowen if they had a message for the 1,000 people who read this email-blog every week.

She said, "Believe in God."

He said, "Love God."

Some people say, "How can I believe in God, let alone love God, after the Holocaust?"

Maybe they should ask the Lowens.

I've often said that the hardest two words in the English language are "I'm sorry," and the second-hardest are "I'm wrong."

Question for your table: What are the third hardest two words?

I would suggest: When someone apologizes to you, to say, "It's okay."

So I would like to suggest an appendix to last week's challenge.

Train yourself to become excellent at saying "It's okay" — even when they don't apologize.

To do so, you need to know that you matter, you were created for a purpose, and that the struggle itself, that's your purpose. There is no greater joy than knowing that.

Friday, October 14, 2016

The goal of this blog is to increase the SF at the Friday night dinner table. Please share.

Thank you to all who responded generously to last week's 36¢ challenge!

First question for your table: Do you enjoy Yom Kippur?

I love Yom Kippur.

It's the one day a year I get a real chance just to sit and think.

No one expects you to be anywhere. You can find yourself a quiet meditative spot and think.

But thinking is hard. So I take a break every year and head over to the assisted living facility to lead a Yizkor service.

In there you have the most interesting, diverse and interested group of
people. Interesting, because they have all lived long lives. Diverse,
because they are a random selection of the community. Interested,
because their lives are pretty monotonous, and they love visitors.

I saw some old friends (some of whom remembered me) and met some new ones.

My daughter Tehila joined me. She helped me distribute the Yizkor sheets and she helped me tell the story of Jonah.

Yizkor, I reminded them, is a way we remember our loved ones who have
passed away. It's a very simple prayer, in a nutshell: "May the Almighty
remember _____, in whose merit I pledge to give tzedaka."

Sometimes when we think of such loved ones, we wonder, "Why?"

Why did they die? Why not me?

If you're stuck in an assisted living facility because you are
mobility-challenged, you might even wonder why God is punishing you.

So I told them, if you are alive today, it is because you still have
work to do. What work could you possibly do when you can hardly get
yourself dressed in the morning?

Maybe it's something as simple as smiling.

If you want to leave a legacy, just keep in mind that chances are, a hundred years from now, no one, not even your descendants, will remember your name, let alone anything you did (no, digital storage won't help).

Therefore, your greatest legacy is going to be how you can affect people right here, right now.

I'm talking about the littlest things - like smiling at someone, which cascades like dominoes to.

Or pay someone a compliment. You just made their day.

Here's a New Year's resolution, for those who haven't made one yet:

Every day for 2 weeks, get five people to smile.

Second question for your table: Think you can do it?

Shabbat Shalom and Happy Sukkot

"We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give."(Churchill)
(Sorry to use the same quote twice in a row, it is just that good.)

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Once or twice a year I remind you that this blog is a project of a
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betterment of the Jewish People and humanity (like this, and this, and this, not to mention thisand this and this.)

Our operating budget is funded mainly by people like you. If you find
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Doing so sends the message that this blog is worth at least 36¢ a week to you.

Is it?

A final question for your table:

If a person is normally a tzaddik - is it possible for them to become a greatertzaddik?

We have one week to practice being a greater tzaddik until the big soul-scrub next Tuesday night.

Wishing you a Shabbat Shalom and a happy Yom Kippur.

"We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give."(Churchill)

Sunday, October 02, 2016

The goal of this blog is a BOFA (breath of fresh air) at the Rosh Hashana table. Please share.

Last Monday, with just a week left of the year 5776, we attended the funeral of my 19-year-old son's best friend.

I do not need to tell you that it was heart-wrenching.

He was a nice kid. Soft-spoken, smart. One summer a few years ago I
hired him and my son to paint our fence. When they completed the job, he
refused to accept payment, telling me that he didn't feel he had done a
good enough job. I was satisfied, but his own sense of integrity
prevented him from accepting payment.

(The official cause of death was accidental drowning.)

I share this unhappy news in the spirit of Rosh Hashana.

If you find that a bit ironic, it may be because you are thinking of
Rosh Hashana like January 1: champagne, fireworks, saxophone, Scotch
whiskey.

Nope.

Rosh Hashanah is that one day a year (OK, two) (OK, maybe one) to thinkabout your life.

How fragile it is, how quickly it can end ....

How precious it is.

What it will take to make 5777 the best year ever.

My Rav used to tell us, "Yom Kippur is easy. You fast and say I'm sorry a bunch of times. Rosh Hashana is hard work. You have to think."

Tradition says that how you think on Rosh Hashana affects your entire
year. The day has a certain karmic energy that causes your thoughts to
have more influence than on any other time of the year.

Rosh Hashana determines who will be healthy and who will get sick. Who
will earn and who will lose. Who will live and who will die.

(The root of "hashana" is shina which means "change". Rosh Hashana = beginning of change.)

This need to think is the real reason for two days of Rosh Hashana: clarity matters, and most of us need two days to get it.

Whether you do it for one day or two, if you end Rosh Hashana before
achieving greater clarity about your life, you just missed an
opportunity.

Here are two questions to help those at your table hear the shofar a little differently this year:

1. If you knew that this was going to be the last year of your life, how would you live it?2. If you had to stand in a court and justify living for another
year, what would you say? What do you hope to accomplish that would
justify another year of life?

On May 7, 1931, the most sensational manhunt New York City had ever known had come to its climax. After weeks of search, "Two Gun" Crowley - the killer, the gunman who didn't smoke or drink - was at bay, trapped in hi sweetheart's apartment on West End Avenue.

One Hundred and fifty policemen and detectives laid siege to his
top-floor hideaway. They chopped holes in the roof, they tried to smoke
out Crowley, the "cop killer," with tear gas. Then they mounted their
machine guns on surrounding buildings, and for more than an hour one of
New York's fine residential areas reverberated with the crack of pistol
fire and the rat-tat-tat of machine guns. Crowley, crouching behind an
over-stuffed chair, fired incessantly at the police. Ten thousand
excited people watched the battle. Nothing like it had ever been seen
before on the sidewalks of New York.

When Crowley was captured, Police Commissioner E. P. Mulrooney declared
that the two-gun desperado was one of the most dangerous criminals ever encountered in the history of New York. "He will kill," said the Commissioner, "at the drop of a feather."

But how did "Two Gun" Crowley regard himself? We know, because while the
police were firing into his apartment, he wrote a letter addressed "To
whom it may concern," And as he wrote, the blood flowing from his wounds
left a crimson trail on the paper. In this letter, Crowley said, "Under my coat is a weary heart, but a kind one - one that would do nobody any harm."

Crowley was sentenced to the electric chair. When he arrived at the
death house in Sing Sing, did he say, "This is what I get for killing
people?"

No, he said, "This is what I get for defending myself."

Carnegie points out that Crowley's self-image as an innocent victim is common among criminals.

I have spent the best years of my life giving people the lighter
pleasures, helping them have a good time, and all I get is abuse, the
existence of a hunted man.

That would almost be comical if not coming from Scarface himself, Public Enemy #1 who murdered his way to the top of America's biggest mob enterprise.

To understand the self-righteous criminal mind, let's turn to Lewis Lawes, warden at Sing Sing for 21 years. He wrote,

Few of the criminals in Sing Sing regard themselves as bad men. They
are just as human as you and I. So they rationalize, they explain. They
can tell you why they had to crack a safe or be quick on the trigger
finger. Most of them attempt a form of reasoning, fallacious or logical,
to justify their antisocial acts even to themselves, consequently
stoutly maintaining that they should never have been imprisoned at all.

It seems to me there are two take-aways from this observation. One I will make today, and the other next week.

I mentioned above that I heard something remarkable yesterday.

This person, after a long discussion about a problem he is having with a
certain other person and the exasperation he is feeling due to the
wrongness of the other person, asked, "Rabbi, do you think I'm being
irrational? Am I way off base?"

It is so rare to ask this question. Most of us are so focused on the
justness of our cause, on the injustice against us, that it never occurs
to us that maybe weare off base.

The first question for your table is, Can you ever be fully honest with yourself? How do you find out if you are?

One way we know is learn ancient wisdom while examining your life (but choose your rabbi wisely!)

Or, make a pilgrimage to a far-away land where you can get some perspective on your life.

Or, at the very least, do some guided contemplation.

(For our Rosh Hashana self-assessment worksheet, shoot me an email.)

Second question for your table: Why is it so hard to say, "I'm wrong"?